To Form a Pack
by AtinBralor
Summary: A sequel to More Than a Name. A lot can change in a year.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:** __I didn't intend to start this story until December, but I wanted to just put out this intro; a taster to set the scene and the time frame for this sequel. I'm seeing the benefit of writing well ahead of myself rather than working a chapter ahead of the audience, but I get the itchy desire to share what I've thought of...so as a half way point in the month, here is chapter one...a prologue._

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

It was all over the holonews; Order 66. The Jedi were the enemy to be executed on sight – or so the reports were saying. It made no difference to their sleepy little home. They watched the coverage with a heavy heart, sorry for the loss of lives on all sides. If it weren't for Kal and his truth, they might have believed it, but instead they watched footage of their brothers bringing down beings that they had worked beside for years. Some of the Jedi had been as close to their squads as any brother.

They watched the footage of disgraced Jedi Master Plo Koon being sent spiralling out of control to his death. There was a small part of Sol that was relieved that it wasn't Wolffe who killed the general, but the absence of his old commander made his stomach churn. _At least if Wolffe had pulled the trigger on Plo Koon they'd know he were alive._

Kal Skirata's plan came to fruition and soon this remote area of Northern Mandalore had gone from being empty to being populated by a small colony of clone deserters. There were pretty much the only people living in this area and apart from Rav and her family, they could travel 100 klicks North, East or West and never meet another soul. The small town of Enceri lay to the South of their farm but it was merely a market town.

He wanted to ask the Nulls if they could tap in to the records, but with the death of Etain it had all been put on the back burner and he never found the correct moment to ask the question. He knew that they were struggling just to get in contact with Niner and Darman, so there as too much going on to ask favours right now.

Yayax Squad had built their own home and were slightly closer than the Kyrimorut clan, but this didn't make much difference. Aside from visits from Rav, Sol lived in relative peace with his two brothers.

She had helped them renovate this unused vheh'yaim in to a small home and taught them how to work the farmland around them. They weren't natural farmers, but it had been a pleasant change of pace. Shiv struggled with the physical work but refused to left idle while they worked. He helped as best as he could with the easier tasks like feeding and became something of an expert in the kitchen.

He had taken Rav's lessons on board and was soon producing nourishing meals with whatever ingredients they had available. It was a job he could do sitting down, and having one arm didn't hold him back when it came to cooking.

Kirii had taken a lot of the early burden because Sol had required many months to recover from his illness and regain his strength, but together they had made it work for them. It was simple dwelling, strictly modelled on the traditional construction. The main room was a communal space for cooking, eating and relaxing and off it, like the spokes of a wheel, where three bedrooms, a 'fresher and several store rooms.

It had been easy to lose the trooper armour because the culture allowed them to shed one skin and replace it with another. There was an anonymity behind the Mandalorian armour and they were able to visit town without the fear of standing out as outsiders. Nobody cared about Shiv's problems either; just as had been said, there was no shame in injury. The only problem he'd encountered had been communication when people had helmets on. Without the ability to lip read he was cast adrift from the conversation, but when Order 66 was announced they had turned to Ordo and Mereel for advice and the Nulls had programmed Shiv's HUD to translate speech to text; a simple solution but not one they had had the skills to undertake.

Sol had allowed Kirii to continue his tapestry of art and the intricate tattoos now curled down around his ankles and crept up the side of this throat. They were distinctive, but under the armour nobody would notice. Unfortunately he was running out of 'blank canvas', and Shiv had shied away from any offers. The younger man had a fascinated interest in the process and loved to watch, but any suggestion that he may want to try it himself sent him fleeing. So instead Kirii had taken to drawing on paper. It hadn't been possible when they were in service – they hadn't had access to flimsi for a start, it had been hard enough to acquire ink – but now he could draw whenever he felt like it. There wasn't always a lot of time idle time, but there hadn't been much time when they were troopers either.

It wasn't long before the new Empire began to encroach on their life. The Imperial presence on Mandalore was unwelcome, but when Jaing's digging happened to unveil the designation of the Stormtrooper Commander, it suddenly become much more than just an irritation; it became personal.

The Nulls had been monitoring as much of the goings on as they could – which, with Jaing's technical genius at the helm, was a lot – and while it was merely a side note collected while finding out strategic details, it carried more weight than they would ever imagine.

Levet had met Sol while gathering supplies in Enceri and happened to make a joke about the information found by the Nulls.

Levet had been a commander in the GAR and he had at least a passing knowledge of all the others he had met during the conflicts. He had grinned jovially at Sol and joked that the Imperial Military had its head stuck firmly up its shebs if it thought assigning the now TKC-3636 to Mandalore was a smart use of resources. He would be better suited in one of the active conflict zones while some lackey babysat the Mandalore base.

The prefix had temporarily thrown him but after a moment Sol's breath had frozen in his throat. "CC-3636?"

Levet shrugged a shoulder and drained his ale glass. They could remove their helmets here; nobody would go turning them in the Empire. Few Mandalorians had time for a military that used slave soldiers; and certainly not slave soldiers that were a hairs breadth away from being Mandalorians themselves. "Not CC anymore, ner vod…TKC. Anyway, he's not going to be a happy man, not that he ever was. A strategic genius – completely wasted here." He swilled the dregs around in the bottom of his glass. "You never know…maybe he's nothing now without his Jedi. Poor chakaar." He shook his head sadly then looked up, seeming only now to realise that his drinking partner had gone white as a sheet. He cocked his head and waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay?"

Sol bolted to his feet, nearly knocking his own half full glass over in his haste. He was already fumbling in his belt for his comm, cursing this civilian life in which his pouches now seemed to be full of unnecessary items that 'might be useful later'. One still had a handful of meal in it from trying to bribe the nuna in to one pen. _What a year could do to a man_.

"I need to speak to Ordo."

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><p><strong><em>I must apologise if I got his Stormtrooper prefix wrong - I'm not as clued up as I could be about them, and a quick wookiepedia rummage seemed to imply that most Stormtrooper Commanders were not clones - but surely this early in the change over, our good commander can keep his role. Artistic license... ~ Atin<em>**


	2. Chapter 2

Sol idled, making his way slowly towards the target. He would have liked to claim that he was cool, calm and collected, but really he was thrumming with the pressure of being the primary figure in this mission. He had to get this right or, not only would the plan fall apart but he'd also be putting himself in danger.

There had been weeks of observation and digging through endless Imperial files to get to this point and he couldn't risk messing it up. There wasn't only his own safety at stake; the Nulls had hacked deeper in to the files, putting themselves at a greater danger of being noticed, and time had been found while Dar and Niner were still outstanding. If they couldn't pull this off then that time was wasted. He had no idea how this was going to go. A year was a long time in the ever changing world of war, especially considering their rapid maturation. This could go badly wrong in seconds and there would be few escape options.

_What if the Empire had reprogrammed their army…or wiped their minds…_

They hadn't done it to the commandos – Dar and Niner were still the same – but what about the ordinary rank and file men?

It was a chance he had to take. He'd never rest easy if he thought he'd let the chance slip by.

_He owed it to them_.

He made his way up the paved street, only stopping when he was close enough to the stormtrooper commander. If he was correct, this would be enough, so he settled back against the rough stone wall, trying to look as shifty as possible. It didn't take long until the stormtrooper took a few steps towards him.

"Move along, please."

Sol ignored him, folding his own arms over his chest and starting towards the square. He could still watch the commander in his 360 HUD, but he was checking the position of his brothers. A'den and Jaing were loitering together in the square, both wearing dark green armour plates; avoiding using their own colours in such a local extraction. Sol had also borrowed some of these non-distinctive plates, although he rarely visited Keldabe for anything other than necessary shopping that couldn't be done in Enceri.

Ordo and Mereel were nearly out of sight, standing guard at the escape route. Mereel had found an entrance in to part of an old underground water system that would take them out over the Kelita River, below the outer city walls. If they got in successfully, they could 'vanish'. This was the advantage of ancient cities that had been build up, down, left, right and sideways. Planning was a novel concept and layers of the old city could often be found just below the current.

The stormtrooper didn't take kindly to being ignored and he moved in, getting in the Sol's space, herding him tight against the wall.

"I said, move along…now!"

He might be kidding himself, but despite the effect of the helmet and the similar nature of the trooper's voices, he was sure he was correct. The tension in the other body made it clear that, if he was wrong, he'd be leaving the scene with broken bones. There was only one way to proceed though. "Wolffe?"

In an explosion of movement, the troop commander had him pressed up against the city wall with a hand on his shoulder. _Maybe he'd be leaving with broken bones however this went_.

"TKC-3636." The grip tightened, a fistful of his collar held in the stormtrooper's hand. "There is no Wolffe."

Sol managed to work his left hand up to pull down the high neck of his flight suit. Just a few inches was enough to expose some of Kirii's intricate artwork. "People don't just disappear, ner vod." He couldn't see the expressions on the other man's face but his body language gave away his shock. He didn't want Wolffe to let go or back down; this stand-off bought him time to explain what was happening without looking like they were chatting. They just looked like a local irritating a stormtrooper – nothing too out of the ordinary for Keldabe. "Stay as you are; we can't look like we're having a conversation." He pulled his collar back up again, finding himself fighting the desire to touch his old commander but he had to keep playing his part so he slouched back as if he didn't care what was being said. "Who else is here on patrol?" He was watching Jaing and A'den's POV icons, counting another four stormtroopers stationed within the small square, milling around among vendors and locals.

Wolffe's hand flexed on his collar, tension evident in every angle of his body. "Sinker, Boost, Ghost and Jaro; we don't take a whole squad on patrol." He resisted the urge to check in on them. He knew they'd be where they should be.

Sol nodded, happy that the information correlated with what he could see. He took a deep breath, ensuring that he kept himself to a whisper. "Do you want out? Or should I walk away now and pretend this never happened?" He tried not to let his mind dwell on the third option. _Or you try to arrest me, or shoot me, for being a deserter. _He hadn't seen Wolffe in over a year; he had no idea how he had taken to life in the Imperial Army.

It seemed like the longest time ever before Wolffe dipped his head in a tiny nod. "We want out." He was speaking for them all without finding out their thoughts, but needs must.

Sol shifted his weight and nodded towards the square. "Can you see the two mandos in plates the same as mine? They're brothers. There are another pair up the alley by the tapcaf. I'm going to push away from you and run towards them; you chase me but if you must shoot, shoot wide. Tell your squad to give chase of all three of us in green. Don't shoot us, and tell them to do what they are told when out of view. The other four are Nulls…they don't tolerate fools." He took a breath to steady himself. "Just follow us convincingly and do exactly what they tell you. You still have a squad comm…tell them what's happening, now…quickly!"

He stood still, every nerve tingling until Wolffe gave him another nod. "K'oyacyi, stick close and trust us, ner vod."

He took one deep, steadying breath, then exploded forward, shoving Wolffe with enough force to look convincing. He spared one backward glance to ensure that he was following, then thundered on towards A'den and Jaing.

A'den started to run ahead, taking a longer route to get through the stalls and across the square to the alley, ready to shout instructions when they caught up.

Jaing kept lounging until Sol caught up and then they ran on together. "Tsikala?"

Sol nodded vigorously as they dodged through stalls and groups of locals. "'Lek, just get shifted!" He yelped as a blaster shot missed him by an inch, but he recovered his composure. "It's okay…I told them to look convincing!"

They both ducked in to hiding and watched as the first two stormtroopers passed, then dodged back out between them and the following three. They were metres from the alley when a member of the local population decided to get involved.

Mandalorians didn't take kindly to Imperial presence and the sight of a fellow mando under apparent attack was enough to rile a few bored individuals.

With a crack of shattering plastoid two stormtroopers fell, a few seconds apart.

_Fek, no…no, no, no, not now._

Sol made to pull his own blaster from its holster but Jaing grabbed his arm. "No, Sol…think!" He pushed him forward. The stormtrooper commander had helped one of his comrades to his feet, but one was still lying on the cobbles. He pointed to Wolffe. "Help him; I'll get the other one. We're nearly there!"

Sol grabbed the trooper's other arm and between them they made it to the alley. It was only fifteen metres up and around the corner to where Ordo and Mereel had the grill open, ready for them.

A'den took position behind them, encouraging them on, holding his position to prevent followers. It was harder to stand still but he stayed still until he got Ordo's message in his ear.

_Ready, A'den…quick!_

He sprinted up the alley, slithering around the corner to where Ordo was waiting. His brother shifted back to let him down the manhole then followed him down, sealing the grate shut with a shot from his blaster.

It was wet, dark and foul smelling in the arched tunnel, but it was safe and they could now move at their own speed.

Jaing had lowered the stormtrooper from his shoulders but it didn't take a medical expert to diagnose the outcome of a clean headshot. He replaced the trooper's helmet, as much for his brothers as for any other reason.

The commander was watching him, helmet in hand and his mouth compressed in to a fine line. He had left Sol to help the other injured man, but not through lack of care – he just couldn't process what he was seeing.

_Sinker had been by his side for the entirety of the war; part of the original Wolfpack. How could this have happened in those final moments? It wasn't right…it wasn't fair._

Boost had walked away up the tunnel a bit. He wasn't getting too far away; just enough to take a moment to process what had happened. The stormtrooper rig didn't allow the troopers to switch to an isolated, private channel, otherwise he would probably be venting anger that way. It was something they missed. No doubt the Imperial Army deemed it an unnecessary extra, but the ability to cut yourself off for a moment was invaluable in moments of high stress or pain. They had relied on it so often when under GAR command, but now everything was on a single squad frequency unless you were a within the command levels.

The trooper that Sol was now supporting, with Ordo's assistance, was still standing more or less under his own power. He had one arm wrapped around his torso, cradling his stomach where a tell-tale crack in the plastoid suggested a solid projectile. The armour had slowed it considerably, but it was still enough to do serious damage.

With Ordo busy it fell naturally to Mereel to lead the group. They didn't want to stop and give first aid in a sewer tunnel unless it was a true emergency, but if needs be, they would.

Sol had used deduction – and the strong hint from the medic emblem on the armour – to figure out who was who. The trooper standing steady and supportive by Wolffe's side must be Jaro then. He felt a flash of jealous rivalry but quickly pushed it aside. There wasn't time for that. They had to get out the tunnels to the speeders before Ghost got critical. They had no idea how bad the injury was; just because he was still on his feet didn't mean much. It could be adrenaline masking a serious injury and they had to get him checked over and treated. There was no way they wanted to start removing armour until they knew what they were dealing with. They had to get to the speeders.

Mereel motioned for Jaing to take the body, then waved them on in to the darkness. Their helmet lamps lit up the sloping tunnel walls, slimy and covered in algae growth. The patches of growth showed that this tunnel must still see some use. Maybe a storm outlet; it certainly wasn't part of the modern sewer system.

A'den moved up beside him, splashing through the stagnant water in his wake. "What's the plan, vod? That stormie needs proper treatment. That Mando had a verp and there's no exit mark, so there's something lodged in his gut. There's no telling what damage has been done." He glanced back over his shoulder at the trio struggling along behind them. "D'you think Fi could deal with the treatment?"

Mereel was silent for a few moments as he thought, but Ordo broke in to their comm circuit before he could speak.

"Mer'ika, the stormie's bad. We take him back to Kyrimorut; he needs the facilities. Sol can take the others back to his farm in the second speeder."

They were struggling to keep the medic moving and the slippery algae was making progress even harder. The more Ghost stumbled, the harder it became to keep him on his feet without all falling.

Ordo called a halt, having to grab at the medic's arm to prevent him collapsing in to the filthy water. It was only about a foot deep, but it was undoubtedly filled with contagions and the wound was enough of a worry without swilling it out with contaminated water. Without further comment, he hauled the stormtrooper up on to his shoulders. It would improve their speed although it did bring a gasp of pain as Ordo's shoulder dug in to his stomach. "Easy, ner vod. We're going to speed up a bit and get you somewhere hygienic." He didn't get a reply, but he could feel the hand gripping his back plate. That was good enough for now.

Mereel started walking again, picking up the pace.

It was a long walk in complete silence. Sol hadn't imagined it like this; he'd expected to be smiling at this stage. They were in the clear now – they just had to follow the tunnel downhill until it came out by the river. They would be out of Keldabe and the speeders were waiting for them to slip away without anyone being any the wiser.

But instead of being smiles, they were travelling in complete silence. They were in a sharp decline now so they were nearing the tunnel mouth. Ghost had gone limp on Ordo's shoulders, his arm dangling loosely down against the Null's back. Sol wanted desperately to check him over but they were nearly there. He'd fallen back with A'den to bring up the rear so that he could observe them all.

Mereel and Ordo lead the party, followed up by Jaing with Sinker. Boost was trudging along behind him, seeming unable to raise his eyes and look at the body of his brother. Wolffe was walking side by side with Jaro. They appeared to be talking, but they were obviously on their squad comm because Sol couldn't head what they were saying. He felt strangely isolated. He wanted to step forward and say something to his ex-commander but the silence was so heavy it was smothering.

The sense of loss was like a storm cloud over their head.

He nearly walked in to the back of the pair because he didn't realise they'd come to a halt. He's been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice that they had stepped out of the dark and in to the cold winter sunlight.

Mereel grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. "We're taking the medic with us to Kyrimorut. You need to take the other three back with you. We'll bring him back to you when he's stable."

He may not quite have Ordo's captain tone, but he still commanded obedience.

Sol felt the twinge in his chest, not wanting the squad separated. It had already gone wrong enough with Sinker. "No…no, Mereel, I'm a medic. I can look after him. He's my vod." He hadn't been a medic for a year now, but he'd never forget it; it was hard wired in to his brain. "…don't take him away from his brothers…"

Mereel put a bracing hand on his arm. "It'll be okay, Sol'ika. It wasn't quite as planned, but let's make the best of it we can." He motioned over his shoulder to the other three Nulls. "We remember everything; we may not be medics but we look after him until we get home. We have better facilities for operating and Fi's a medic too. It makes sense. Trust me."

Sol hung his head, glancing towards the dejected collection of stormtroopers that had been his vode a mere year ago. He'd got them out and now it was his responsibility to get them back home in one piece. He could remember how scared he'd been when he suddenly found himself cast adrift as a civilian, and he'd had Rav looking out for him. Now it was his turn to make sure his brothers made the transition as smoothly as possible.

"Okay." He turned towards the second speeder where Jaing had already loaded up Sinker's body. The other stormtroopers were beginning to climb on board with the Null's encouragement. "Okay…but look after him."

He turned towards the speeder and climbed in to the driver's seat. The silence was painfully heavy and he felt a portion of it was aimed directly at him. He couldn't bring himself to remove his helmet. If they all thought he was just another random brother then it was easier for now – only Wolffe knew it was him and he seemed to be mute with shock right now.

Boost settled in to the passenger seat beside him, pulling off his helmet. He gave a small, strained smile. "Sol, vod'ika?"

Sol looked up sharply, feeling like his brother could read his mind. _How did he know?_

"Wolffe told us when we were walking down here."

_Again, that feeling that his thoughts were written in the air in front of him._

"I'm sorry…" It was all he could manage.

Boost shook his head slowly. "Not your fault. Just unfortunate." He motioned forward. "C'mon, let's go. We can talk on the way."

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><p>Ghost woke groggy with the potent mix of pain relief and sedatives. His mouth was cottony dry and he couldn't feel his stomach at all; just the odd coolness of local anaesthetic.<p>

They had overdone the sedative because he shouldn't have lost consciousness but the drugs applied on the way out of Keldabe would have reacted with those given for the operation. It didn't matter, but he had wanted to stay awake. He hated losing control.

He turned his head slowly to look around. He blinked hard, quite sure he was hallucinating because of his narcotic cocktail, but when he opened his eyes he saw the same thing again.

There was a vibrant blue twi'lik sitting by the bed. He'd seen twi'leks before on Ryloth, and he was familiar with the typical pin-up image, but he'd never seen one in Mandalorian armour. She stunned him in to silence.

She had gotten to her feet when he began to move and she was quickly by his side. "How are you feeling?" She moved the blanket down, just enough to check the dressing that Fi had applied after removing the projectile. "Do you need any more pain relief?"

She was calm and confident, seeming not to care about her proximity to someone like himself; an Imperial Stormtrooper. All he wanted was to see a familiar face. "My brothers?"

She nodded and smiled, smoothing his hair back from his face. Sweat had dried it in to an untidy bird's nest rather than his usual neat style. It needed cut; they were expected to keep it in the military 'short back and sides' or shaven style, but he had been busy and it was long overdue a trim

"Your brothers were in a different speeder and they went straight back. We don't have a bacta tank or anything fancy like that – we were just a better place to perform the operation – so you can go and join them whenever you feel up to the journey. You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

Her lilting, song like accent slightly influenced the small part of him that wanted to stay put, but it was over shadowed by his need to be back with his squad. He wasn't even completely sure what had happened. Wolffe had given them a somewhat cryptic message, telling them to chase the three mandalorians but not to hurt them, and to do exactly what they were told because they were brothers. If it had been anyone but Wolffe, he would have assumed they were going daft, but he had never been given reason to doubt his commander; he had got them out of all sorts of seemingly impossible messes, so they had done exactly what he said…but then some trigger happy local had decided to get involved.

He had armour read outs from the squad fed to his HUD as medic and he'd seen Sinker's vitals flat line almost instantly after a perfect head shot. He didn't have a chance to react because mere seconds later a shot had cracked through his own armour and lodged in his abdomen. He didn't remember much clearly after that point. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing and it had keep him more or less on his feet, although he was aware that he had been practically carried towards the end – slung between two mandalorians.

He tried to sit up but his core muscles were all either numb or damaged – he wasn't sure which yet – and he had to accept her help to sit up very slowly, letting his head adjust the change. He knew how far he could push his body; it was a medic's privilege. "I want to go to them. I'm not in pain…I'm numb."

She looked unsure, but she gave him a small nod. "I'll see what they say. Hold on a moment."

She left him alone and returned ten minutes later with a clone.

He didn't recognise him at all but it was still good to see a familiar face, even if he didn't have a name to fit to it.

Fi stepped past Laseema and approached the bedside. "You want to go home, vod?" His voice was gentle and encouraging. "Just let me check you over."

He didn't question his desire for leaving already, which Ghost was thankful for. It made him feel less guilty; less like he was shunning their hospitality.

The commando checked his vitals with a hand scanner then pried away a corner of the bacta dressing to look over the wound. "My names Fi, by the way; former Republic Commando, now stay-at-home buir – quite a culture shock but I'm adaptable." He replaced the dressing, seeming happy enough with what he saw. "Are you sure you don't want to get a night's sleep before you go? I'm happy to take you but it could be uncomfortable."

Ghost shook his head. "We were raised to deal with pain, ner vod. I just want to be with my brother's…no offence intended." He didn't want to hurt this brother's feelings; he had the pleasant sort of cheer in his voice that made Ghost instantly warm to him, but he had to know that his squad were safe. _Apart from Sinker._ He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself. "Fi, do you know whether they took the body…did they take him…" He couldn't say it. He couldn't connect the corpse to his brother because that made it real. "What will they…"

Fi put a hand on his shoulder. "Udesii, vod'ika, don't worry. They won't have left him behind. When you all get together you can do whatever you feel is right – burial…cremation – it's up to yourselves. You're free men now." He lowered his head and squeezed the medic's shoulder. "I'm just sorry that you didn't all get out in one piece. It was a hard extraction to plan. It seems like it should be easy since it's home turf, but that just brought a whole host of problems…" He gave a soft smile. "C'mon, let's get you ready to go home."

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><p><em><strong>December's looking busy - two more coursework assigned, so this is coming out early. ~ Atin<strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter**** 3**

The speeder was met by a swarm as Fi drew to a halt in the dark yard. He'd only been aware of this home; he'd never visited before. Parja had told him all about them when he was recovering at Kyrimorut. At the time he had wished they were staying at the bastion as well, so that he might have had more male company rather than just the fleeting visits from the Nulls or Kal when they were passing through. Parja had explained that Rav was helping them work a disused section of her farm around 30 klicks from Kyrimorut. It was giving them an opportunity to do something with themselves.

The darkness limited his visibility, but they seemed to have some well-established fields and a scattering of nuna across the yard, determined to get in the way. It was further than anyone at Kyrimorut had got, even with Levet's hard work, but then they had had a good year to work on it.

He stepped out in to the cool evening air and helped Atin to assist Ghost out of the speeder. The medic had been stoic throughout the journey but it had obviously taken it out of him. He was weak and exhausted, struggling to keep himself conscious. Fi wasn't confident enough in his own balance and coordination to try to help the other man. He was fine most of the time, but if he stumbled he was slow to catch himself and the last thing Ghost needed was to fall because of Fi's problems. He stepped to the side and let one of the former stormtroopers take his place. "Is there a bed made up for him? He needs to lie down and rest."

Kirii stepped forward, ushering the rest of them back inside. He led Fi through to one of the three bedrooms. "We're going to be bunking up a bit – our family has gone from three to seven in one jump." He pulled back the duvet and thick wool blankets. It was cold at nights at this time of year but the fire was burning in the grate and it gave the room a pleasant warmth. Together they got the medic comfortably settled in the bed. "This is Shiv's room, but he thought it would be best for Ghost since its nearest to the 'fresher."

Atin stepped back and made space so that the squad could get in. Wolffe came up to the side of the bed and placed a hand on Ghost's forehead but the medic was too exhausted to do much more than blink up sleepily and attempt a smile. Boost moved in beside him, his own expression one of palpable relief to see his friend back in one piece.

Jaro couldn't get in close, but he sat down on the edge of the bed. "How're you feeling, vod'ika?" He smoothed the creases out of the blankets, keeping an eye on Wolffe.

Ghost had his eyes closed now as Fi completed another round of checks and administered yet more medication. He felt better now that he was out of the speeder. The journey back hadn't taken too long, but Fi had been right; the motion of the vehicle and the local anaesthetic wearing off meant that it became quite a painful ride. They had to stop at the half way point for a short break because he was starting to feel extremely travel sick – which was something he'd never experienced before – but the build-up of meds and the waves of pain in his gut brought it all on and there was nothing he could do about it. Ten minutes of sitting stationary with the door open to let in the cool night breeze had helped him enough to get through the second half of the journey.

Now he was completely exhausted and it was becoming a challenge to open his eyes again. His commander was still stroking his forehead and hair, and it was one of the most soothing things he'd experienced. Boost was there, he'd seen him at Wolffe's side, and Jaro had spoken to him…they were all there. _Apart from Sinker._

…Jaro had spoken to him…asked him something.

He blinked heavily, trying to force himself to stay awake but it wasn't working. His eyelids felt like lead and the bed was so comfortable; nothing like anything he'd ever slept in before. The mattress was deep and soft, and there were layers of fluffy warm covers over him. It was an alien feeling but so very cosy and inviting. He made one final valiant effort to respond, attempting to rouse himself from the stupor.

Jaro smiled, an action quirked by the heavy scarring that ran from his right temple down around his eye. "Tired?" He answered his own question. "Get some rest then, brother. You're safe here."

Ghost managed a small smile, a contented sigh and then his eyes fluttered shut.

They all watched him for a moment but his breathing was smooth and even; he was just too exhausted to stay awake.

Wolffe stepped back to let Fi do his thing, turning away sharply to leave the room. He was really feeling the stress now and he had to get out of the way. He had satisfied his need to see Ghost coping okay, but the sudden change in circumstances, and the loss of Sinker, had left him reeling for balance. He couldn't cope with seeing his brother looking so ill and weak, but logically he understood that it was to be expected. The medic had been very lucky not to have suffered terrible internal damage from a projectile like that. A gut shot came with a mountain of added trouble because there were so many organs, nerves and major blood vessels all crammed in to a small space. It was easy to die from the infection even if you survived the shot – that's why Fi was administering such a cocktail of drugs. Ghost had been very fortunate, but he had suffered severe internal damage only a year and a half ago when a chunk of shrapnel sliced through his armour so it could be a longer road to recovery.

That didn't matter. They could cope with any side effects or lasting damage; they were clones – they were adaptable. All that mattered was Ghost's wellbeing. It no longer mattered if he was capable of recovering to soldier standard. He just had to get well. That's all that mattered now.

He stepped in to the hall, taking a few calming breathes before continuing in to the kar'yai.

Shiv was sitting at the table, kneading a dough one handed on the floured surface with quiet patience. He looked up to see who was coming in but ducked his head back to his work upon seeing Wolffe. He'd already been on the receiving end of the commander's temper. He knew he was stressed, but he still didn't fancy repeating it. He looked at his single hand; always covered in cuts and burn, but now also bandaged.

* * *

><p><em>When they had arrived at the farm the tension in the speeder had barely eased. Kirii had come out to help Sol move Sinker's body and set it out in one of the outbuildings. It wasn't exactly the reverential placement they would have liked, but it was the only suitable place. The house was already going to be crowded so there really wasn't room for a body to be laid out.<em>

_Boost had taken a walk around the fields, needing to get away from it all in order to process the thoughts going wild in his head._

_Wolffe and Jaro headed inside, meeting Shiv who was prepping the ingredients for the stew._

_Jaro nodded in greeting then left Wolffe while he retreated in to the hall in search of the 'fresher. _

_Shiv laid down his knife and poured a mug of shig for the new brothers. "If you can change out of the kit, there's some clothes on the shelves over there. My name's Shiv." His gaze ran over the scar and cybernetic. "I guess you're Wolffe." He smiled warmly when he got a nod in reply. "I'm just getting everything ready for the nuna stew. A good meal in your belly may not solve everything, but it's a good start." He waited a moment then returned his attention to his work, turning his back on the commander. He didn't seem to want to speak, but that was okay with Shiv. It had to have all been a shock to him. It may have been in the planning for weeks but the stormtroopers didn't know anything until the final seconds._

_Wolffe moved across the room, sipping the hot drink. It had a sweet, citrusy taste which was soothing, but it didn't give the buzz that caf did and he missed it. There was probably a good reason he was being given this tisane rather than the caf though, even if he didn't believe that it was going to make much difference. Maybe a mug of caf would help him get his nerves under control – often enough it was the combination of caf and stims that kept them moving during long campaigns._

_He removed each piece of armour, placing them reverently on the chair – knowing that this was the last time he'd be interacting with this second skin. He took a few items from the pile, realising that they had prepared several full sets of normal civilian clothes. It wasn't the beskar skin that Sol and the Nulls had worn in Keldabe, but it was the 'comfortable at home' clothing instead. _

_He began to peel off the skin tight under suit, pulling apart the seams and removing it in sections because he was too drained to wrestle with tugging it down his torso. He wasn't going to have to put it all back together again so he didn't care. Once he'd shed it all he stood for a few moments, staring down at his own body in the soft light of the fire. It was nothing like the harsh lighting of the barracks but it lit up his scars in a whole new way and reminded him just want he'd been through in his short life. The clatter from the table as Shiv tipped some chopped ingredients in to a bowl brought him back to the here and now, and he pulled on the underwear for decency then settled down in a chair to think._

_His mind was busy he shut down mid-way through the task of getting dressed. _

"_We lost a brother; Sergeant Sinker." He ducked his head, and took a deep breath. "He'd been at my side from day one. He should be here now."_

_He waited but Shiv didn't reply. He didn't know what he wanted to hear, but getting no recognition at all made him instantly angry. He pushed to his feet and took a few steps closer behind the younger clone. "Did you hear me? I said we lost a brother. The 'grand plan' wasn't so grand, was it?"_

_Shiv wasn't aware of what was going on until Wolffe grabbed him from behind. He was peeling vegetables which always required something of a talent one handed. He had a spike on his favourite chopping board which allowed him to 'spear' the vegetable as he peeled and chopped it, so he didn't need the hand he didn't have._

_Wolffe grabbed his shoulder and shook him harshly, before hauling him to his feet. The action of shaking made his hand jerk forward and the vegetable broke free of the spike, leaving it free to gouge in to his palm. He gave a cry of shock and pain, but the commander had pulled him right off his feet and he had no balance when rushed like that._

_Wolffe was shouting at him, but he couldn't lip read while he was being pushed around like this; he just did his best to stay on his feet._

_Jaro returned just in time to see this eruption, his mouth hanging open in shock upon finding his commander assaulting one of their hosts while dressed in nothing but a pair of black underwear. It was a sight which gave him a fraction of a seconds stall, but he shook himself and rushed forward to pull him away. "Hey, hey, steady, Wolffe. What are you doing?" _

_His touch was enough to snap the commander out of his rage and he stumbled back, letting go of Shiv and backing away rapidly, almost falling over another chair. He didn't stop until his back hit the wall and even then he slid down as if his legs gave up._

_Jaro had to make a grab for Shiv who had completely lost his balance with being thrust away. He managed to catch his elbow and prevent him hitting the ground. In doing so he realised there was a deep gash in his hand, dripping blood on the wooden floor. "Fek, vod, what happened? Here…" He reached for his belt and pulled out the small medkit. It didn't contain much – it was up to the squad medic to carry the majority of essentials – but he had a few bacta wraps. He sat Shiv down and held his hand elevated. "Hold this wrap to your hand. Apply pressure, okay?" He wasn't a medic, but they all had the basics._

_Shiv hadn't caught any of what had been said; he'd been too preoccupied by the throbbing pulse and ache in his palm, but he looked up now and tried to figure out what might have been said. He had no idea. The commander had backed away right up to the wall and made no threat of advance, so he turned his attention to the stormtrooper still in full armour. "I'm deaf. I need to read your lips."_

_Jaro looked a little taken aback, but he soon got around the thought and made sure to face the younger man this time. "Elevate your hand, and apply pressure to the wrap, okay."_

_Shiv nodded, squeezing his fingers shut over his palm. He noticed Jaro's second look of confusion and raised his damaged arm in the form of an answer. He didn't have a second hand to hold the dressing in place. "Bomb squad." It was enough to answer the silent question._

_Jaro looked as if he were going to ask something but instead he turned to move over towards Wolffe._

_The commander was slumped on the floor in a state of silent shock. He didn't look up as Jaro sat down beside him, but he did reach out to grab his hand in a firm grip; needing to know he was there. Sinker was gone. He needed to grip Jaro to ensure that he truly were still there. "He didn't care about Sinker, Jar'. He just ignored me as if he didn't mean anything." His voice was garbled and completely unlike the cool, military genius. _

_Jaro soothed him, stroking his hair and placing a soft kiss on his bare shoulder. "Easy, cyar'ika, easy," he whispered. "It's not that he doesn't care." He gently forced Wolffe to look up out of his silent torment. "He's deaf, Wolffe. He didn't hear you speaking to him."_

* * *

><p>Shiv had gone in search of Sol to get a bandage wrapped around his hand and left Jaro to calm his brother down again. He didn't bear a grudge, but his hand still ached as he pummelled the dough in to hadn't spoken to him in the intervening hours.<p>

He watched cautiously as the commander sat down on the bench opposite him. "Is my shig that bad, ner vod?" He wasn't sure if a joke was the right thing for the moment, but a hint of a smile graced the older man's lips.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know…"

Shiv cut him off before he had to apologise. "It's okay, you don't need to apologise. No harm done." He flexed his hand experimentally. "I've had worse." He looked up to stare in to the mismatched eyes. "I'm sorry about your brother."

Wolffe nodded his thanks, biting down on his lip to push back his emotions. He pointed to the dough that Shiv was shaping in to flatbreads, ready to be headed through on a griddle over the fire. "Can I help?"

Shiv gave him an amused look, then split the dough in half and passed some across the table. "Sure…especially since it's your fault my productivities down. If we all want to eat soon, it'd be a lot of help."

It was a vast improvement on being thrown about, but the commander still had a look of haunted torment in his eyes. That was something which couldn't be soothed away in a matter of hours.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The section in italics is meant to be a flashback - something which happened hours before - but wasn't sure if italics alone would make it stand separate enough. Hopefully it is understandable and the dividers don't ruin the flow too much. ~ Atin<strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The evening was subdued despite the tasty spread that had been prepared by Shiv. Ghost was sleeping so everyone could settle down at the table and eat, but there was still a heavy silence hanging over them. It should have been a time to celebrate, but while Boost was friendly and did his best to chat, Wolffe and Jaro where largely silent.

Boost was the first to excuse himself and Sol showed him to his room, explaining that he was going to share with Kirii for the time being. He was happy enough to give up his own room until the weather improved and they could extend the home to accommodate the newcomers. For clones used to barracks, there was no issue with squeezing in together.

Shiv had already said he'd sleep on the floor in his room so that he could get up in the night and check Ghost's IV and administer any pain relief needed. That just left Wolffe and Jaro, but there were plenty bed rolls and an abundance of blankets. The warmest place would be to sleep on the kar'yai floor, but one of them could always squeeze in beside Boost.

It was a bit of a logistical nightmare making space for the family to double in size, but it was worth every issue. Even with the tension it had been pleasant to see the familiar faces around the table.

Sol said his goodnights to Boost then returned to find everyone else preparing for bed. Wolffe and Jaro where making up a bed in the centre of the room near the fire. It was certainly a warm place to rest, but he was a little disappointed because he'd been hoping to get a chance to talk to Wolffe; to explain why he had come for them…to attempt to apologise for the loss of Sinker…but the commander seemed to still be in a state of shock.

So instead, he followed Kirii to bed, trying to forget about it for just now. He'd speak to Wolffe when he could. As he lay in the dark, listening to his brother falling asleep, he allowed his mind to wander. He'd been snatching glances all night; feeling the rekindling of lust in his belly. The commander was everything he'd remembered from their time together. Sometimes he imagined that his mind was playing tricks on him over the time since desertion and painting an idyllic memory, but one look at the man had put all those fears behind him. He was every bit as handsome as he remembered. The only change seemed to be in his manner. The Wolffe he remembered was enthusiastic and forward, but now he was a shadow of that being. He seemed reserved, quiet and almost painful in all his interactions. He wasn't physically injured, but he still had the air of a wounded man; he was in pain. Maybe not physical pain, but something was hurting him and Sol wanted to sit him down and find out just what it was and how he could help.

* * *

><p>Shiv barely slept. He had a few hours but he was too concerned about not hearing Ghost if he was needed, so instead he found himself staring up at the patterns of the fire on the ceiling. Gradually Ghost woke too and he moved to sit in the chair and keep an eye on him.<p>

They dozed in companionable silence for a few more hours until the medication wore off enough for Ghost to start getting uncomfortable. It was too early for the next dose of pain relief, but within twenty minutes the medic was in so much pain he was sweating and shifting in an attempt to get comfortable.

Shiv tried to ease his discomfort by pulling back the heavier blankets but that just left him shivering and sweating.

He sat back, unsure of what to do, but any time he attempted to go and get help he was called back. Ghost knew what his body was going through and what was normal. He didn't want anyone woken up unnecessarily. _What else could he expect when this was his second bad abdominal injury in a matter of years? He expected pain. _Although he did understand how it was worrying for this young brother to watch.

Shiv adjusted the blankets yet again then stood up, trying to ignore Ghost's complaints. "I'm not going to get Sol. I'm just going to get you some water, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer.

He was true to his word; he walked straight past Sol's room and headed for the kar'yai. He wanted to get a glass of water and maybe see if Jaro or Wolffe could offer advice. He knew he was ignorant due to his lack of experience. He'd never seen injuries like this. Anyone hurt in training had been taken away to the medbay and none of his brothers saw the recovery. They might have heard plenty horror stories, but they never actually witnessed it.

Watching Ghost trying to cope with pain was not something he was comfortable with, but he'd agreed to keep an eye on him over night and he wasn't going to shirk his duties.

He stepped in to the kar'yai and moved through the shadows towards the brothers sleeping among the pile of blankets. He expected to find them sleeping in the same area but he had not expected to find them curled around each other.

Wolffe was wrapped around Jaro, belly to back, with a possessively tight arm around the man's body. It wasn't an embrace to keep the cold away; they were near to the warm fire and bundled under an abundance of blankets…it was a closeness etched with more than practicality. It was as if sleep chipped away the walls that had made the commander unapproachable and stony – he actually looked peaceful and content. The only hint of his trauma was the desperation of his grip; he had his fingers fisted in the front of Jaro's shirt.

After the initial shock, a cold sinking feeling settled in Shiv's stomach. Sol had thought of nobody but Wolffe in all the time he'd known him, but it seemed that Wolffe held another soul close to his heart. Sol was going to be heartbroken…and then he was going to be mad. He didn't take things well at the best of time and this was going to go down like a lead balloon.

He was already desperately thinking of ways to keep this a secret when his presence woke the naturally light sleepers. You couldn't creep up on a trooper…and Shiv couldn't creep at all; he had no idea when he was creaking the floorboards.

Wolffe's cybernetic glinted in the light a fraction of a second before Jaro woke. He was on his feet so quickly that Shiv yelped in shock. Wolffe's mood swings terrified him completely and utterly, and that was saying something considering he had grown used to Sol's entirely unpredictable outburst, which could start from anything as small as the nuna breaking free.

Jaro was entirely more together and merely rolled on to his back to squint up at them, reaching out to stroke Wolffe's calf in an attempt to calm him. "Easy, commander, you're okay?" He cooed softly, sitting up slowly and continuing to rub the muscles. He was used to it all. He was used to Wolffe's short temper and his constant feeling of vulnerability. Order 66 had not only marked the demise of the Jedi, but it had also underlined the abrupt change in his partner. Gone was the bold, brave leader, and in its place had stepped this terrified brother masquerading as the man he had been; trying desperately to cope with his own mental damage whilst leading a company through the trauma of the change from GAR to Imperial Stormtroopers. It was hard to see a powerful man fall apart, but he was always there to pick up the pieces at the end of the day.

Shiv had stepped back, giving Wolffe space to calm down. His fears for Sol had melted aside a little. Even if Wolffe had been alone, this was definitely not the man he had described. The war must have been hard on him. He realised he was still frozen in space so he began to move towards the sink to fill a glass, glancing over his shoulder to watch Jaro gradually coax Wolffe back in to his nest of blankets with soft words and a few gentle kisses.

He filled the glass and wet a cloth; hoping to ease the fever a little.

Jaro approached slowly, stretching his muscles which had grown stiff on the hard floor. He waited until Shiv looked up to watch him speak. "Are you okay?" He was aware that Wolffe had already terrified him once before.

Shiv nodded, trying to balance the wet cloth over his arm so that he could carry the glass. "Ghost's in pain. I thought I'd get him some water. He doesn't want Sol woken…he says it's normal…"

A smile crept across Jaro's face, lighting up his otherwise serious expression. "Ghost knows pain. If he says it's normal then he's right." He noticed the tension in Shiv's stance. "You've never seen a bad injury healed without bacta, have you?" It wasn't said unkindly; just a matter of fact point.

Shiv shook his head, chewing on his lip. "Never left Kamino. The only bad injury I witnessed was my own and I was too scared to worry about the damage. I guess it must have hurt…I don't remember. Sol says your mind can block out bad moments. I can't remember it at all except in nightmares…"

Jaro laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, turning him towards the door. "Take the water back to him but don't give him more than a few drops at a time. If you give him too much it'll make him sick." He motioned towards the huddled form in the blankets. "Let me see to Wolffe and then I'll come and help you. I won't be long." He smiled again, comfortingly. "It'll be okay. We'll get him through…"

Shiv nodded and turned to return to his room, unsure of whether Jaro had meant Ghost or whether he was referring to the stricken commander.


End file.
